


make your shadows look like stars

by screaminginternally



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Fairies, Fluff and Angst, Forever, Multi, Mutual Pining, Non-Linear Narrative, Polyamory, Recovery, Vignette, because it turns out i can't plot, here's a crack trio i was thinking of for like MONTHS, i dont like ship wars theyre boring and stupid, so instead it'll be whatever order i write stuff in, three messed up people figure out how to be healthy together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-01-08 10:05:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12252171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screaminginternally/pseuds/screaminginternally
Summary: Figuring out polyamory isn't easy. It especially isn't easy when everyone involved doesn't know how to emotion like normal people.Or: Jay, Jane and Carlos want to be a thing. Together. They just need to get out their own damn way.





	1. just punch out your emotions

**Author's Note:**

> (notes: okay, fair warning. a lot of the stuff in this is from my own headcanons, and a lot of the Jane/Fairy stuff is a mix of my own headcanons and the stuff that the ever-excellent ruff_ethereal gives to tumblr.)
> 
> this was supposed to be a one-shot longfic, but I clearly don't have the writing stamina for something like that sooo - chapters! eventually!

_One. Two. One. Two._

 

_Right jab, left jab, right, left, right, left right left right left right-_

 

The heavy bag was swinging faster than Jay knew it could, than knew he could make it. Not that he was paying much attention: all his focus was on his flurrying fists, quickly becoming more and more wild in their execution. With a final right hook, Jay punched the bag, sending it jangling wildly off to the left.

 

He staggered away from the spinning, flailing thing chained to the ceiling, panting heavily. But still, he could tell it wouldn't be enough. He hadn't even broken the skin on his knuckles yet - and he hadn't even bothered to tape them up tonight, never mind putting on the boxing gloves. The only light in the dark school gym was the one beating down on him, the heat making him sweat with more than just exertion. Jay took a quick second to gulp from his water bottle - just one more thing making this feel more desperate than he was willing to admit.

 

While Jay and his friends would never, ever confess to wanting to go _back_ to the Isle, not for long, there were things he missed about it. He missed the lack of 'refinement', the lack of people who actually, genuinely gave a shit whether you were constantly friendly. He was tired of acting like he didn't have the urge to steal, sometimes. Things would catch his eye, flutter in his gaze and make him think _Jafar could get a good dollar for that~_ before catching himself. While Jay had definitely been more of a pickpocket on the Isle, there had been times when he'd had to beat the shit out of someone - generally when that someone was attacking him right back. And he'd enjoyed it, a little. He'd enjoyed the adrenaline, the rush, the sickening _crunch_ that could accompany his fist colliding with another person. Sometimes, when he'd finished a Tourney game, or a ROAR practice, he'd wipe at his lip and be surprised that it hadn't split, that there wasn't a taste of iron in his mouth. Yeah, he loved Auradon, but he missed the grittier, fast-paced life of the Isle sometimes, too.

 

Especially on nights like tonight, when he can feel energy buzzing in his ears, knows that he won't be able to sleep until he's well and truly exhausted, in a way that no sport he's taken up so far in Auradon will suffice.

 

He wants to punch someone. Not pull the strength in him, not to simply win a game or round against. He wants to jam his fist into someone's face, jaw, throat and gut, wants to hear them wheezing into the carpet where they're huddled on the ground, wants to feel the blood drip down his knuckles and the sting of the split skin. Wants to have his ears ring with a well-timed blow from an opponent.

 

But Auradon won't allow that. Auradon doesn't like it when children fight, doesn't like fighting in general. Doesn't like the more violent urges humans have, even though there's entire sports and games and industries dedicated to the gratification of people's more violent instincts.

 

Jay turned his body back to face the heavy bag, it having finally stopped swinging so violently. Well, he didn't have much of a choice in pastimes, if he wanted some semblance of rested sleep tonight - actually, this morning. It was almost one AM, now, according to his phone.

 

Which is why he just about shat himself when two more lights turned on. One on the boxing ring, another on the bag right next to him. Swivelling his head to the light-switch on the wall, he tried to scramble up an excuse for his actions--

 

It wasn't a teacher, ready to give him detention and suspend him from games. It wasn't Fairy Godmother, ready to march him back to his bed. It wasn't anyone he was expecting at all.

 

It was Jane.

 

And she didn't seem surprised or upset to see him. "Hi."

 

"Hi." Jay wasn't sure he hadn't sustained a concussion at some point. There was no way he was seeing this.

 

Jane was walking closer to him. She was wearing . . work out clothes? What? "Do you mind sharing?" she asked. Jay was still waiting for his brain to reboot.

 

"Mind sharing what?"

 

"The gym." Jane gestured with her index finger, waving it in a small circle in the air. "I know some people prefer privacy, but I really wanted to get a few rounds in on one of the punching bags."

 

 _Stop looking so gobsmacked, idiot, and say something_. Jay's tired, sleep-starved brain finally reconnected, and he decided to just roll with it. "Yeah, sure."

 

Jane gave him a small, cute smile, and dropped her water bottle next to his. She's clearly come prepared - she also pulled out some tape for her knuckles, and started winding it around her fingers in the precise way he'd been shown by Coach Jenkins.

 

"Didn't take you for a boxer." His tongue still felt dry in his mouth. Why was he still so shocked? He needed to snap out of this.

 

Jane looked up at him - she was even shorter, now. She wasn't wearing the high-heels almost all the girls in their school favour, including her, and now Jay's pretty sure he's a foot taller than her. Carlos is definitely taller than her, right now.

 

"I'm not, really," Jane says. "But I sometimes I get an urge to just hit something, hard, and it doesn't really go away until I do. It's easier to just give in." She's smiling as she says it, like Jane hasn't just validated a whole bunch of feelings Jay's been having, and contradicted a whole bunch of thoughts Jay's been having too.

 

He can't help but smile a bit, at her. "But you've been doing this a lot, before?" Because she clearly knows what she's doing - she's obviously practiced at it; it takes a certain amount of knowledge to sneak down to the gym in the middle of the night, to tape up your hands so efficiently.

 

"A couple times a semester, yeah. But combat fighting was something my Dad* insisted I know, in case I ever ended up in a dangerous situation. It became a casual hobby."

 

"I didn't know you had a dad." He really didn't. He'd never thought about it, which seemed weird now.

 

"He doesn't live in Auradon." Jane smiled, but her tone was firm. _Drop the subject_. Fair enough.

 

Jane lined herself up with the bag, pulling her arms into position and levelling her gaze at the bag. With a scowling glare at the bag the likes of which Jay had never seen on an Auradonian's face before, Jane swung a fist at the bag, making solid impact. The bag went swinging wildly back, as fast as Jay's had been when he was letting loose before. He had to stagger back a step at the show of force. Whoa.

 

Jane made repeated, quick-jabs at the bag, each one forceful enough to rattle the chains clinging to the ceiling and send the bag swinging. Jay couldn't help himself. "You're stronger than you look."

 

Jane's eyes flicked towards him, holding her stance. She was breathing quickly, but it was less the rapid huffing of someone out of breath, more holding a pace. "Fae strength. I can make it fluctuate at will," her fist struck out, the bag swung, "be as strong as I want, or as weak as I want. I can do the same thing with my physical density. Be as light or as heavy as I want."

 

"Huh." Jay leaned against his own bag, watching Jane. You learned something new every day. He traced his eyes over Jane's face, her eyes kept in glare at the heavy-bag like it had kicked a kitten. She wasn't wearing any makeup that he could see - it was one AM, why would she? - and Jay noticed that she had freckles, pale ones, across her cheeks and nose . . and they were blue? Little blue dots scattered across Jane's face. He chalked it up to a fae thing - Mal had had purple hair since the day she'd hatched** and green eyes that flared into glowing colour at will. Jay let his eyes travel across Jane's blue-spattered cheek, the deep lines under her eyes (the kind look like they from a lack of sleep, but why would Jane have trouble sleeping?), up the slope of her ear . . and up, up and up. Jane had pointy ears. Okay. Another fae thing. Maybe he should get back to hitting the bag, and stop staring at his friend . . friend's friend? He didn't know Jane that well. Whatever. He needed to stop staring like a creeper.

 

He turned back to his bag, letting his fists collide with it until he hit a rhythm. They stayed that way for another hour or so, before the two of them quietly slipped out of the gym a bit before three AM.

 

Jay snuck back to his room, carefully making sure to avoid the security cameras. When he glanced behind him to check Jane was following him, she'd disappeared. Jay shrugged. She clearly wasn't new to breaking curfew - she'd be fine.


	2. look, i'm just trying to robin-hood this kleptomania, okay?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane helps Jay do something about that kleptomania.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I've been struggling to find something to do with this story since roughly the same second I posted it. I AM working on another chapter, but I've also been sitting on this for about two months, trying to figure out how to continue it, and I can't, so HERE YOU GO. IT'S FLUFFY.

"Okay, here's what we're doing."

 

The two of them sat on a bench, the sun-filled park almost teeming with people. A Sunday, half the damn city seemed to have decided to spend the day in the park. Which wasn't much of a problem, in Jane's point of view. The cash money in her pocket was pressed against her thigh. She continued, "You're having problems with a pickpocketing compulsion, yeah?"

 

Jay nodded.

 

"Well, we're gonna do something that takes that compulsion and turns it on it's head." She stuck her fingers into her pocket and took out the money. About sixty dollars in all, fives and tens. "You're going to take this cash, and put it in people's pockets without them noticing. Call it reverse theft."

 

Jay's eyes were wide. "You think this'll be good for me?"

 

"I think it's worth a shot."

 

As they sat, Jane eyed the passers-by. She'd found, over the years, that if she focused her gaze on one particular person, her sense of their emotions sharpened; the static caused by other people quieted. Jane skipped her gaze from one person to another. She could feel Jay next to her, holding himself a little tense. She flicked her gaze to him, just enough to skim his face. His eyes were focusing on people's jackets, their pants and pockets and women's purses. His nervousness was drifting into focus, getting into something he once called a 'zone' for theft. Good.

 

" _Sir, sir. I understand-_ "

 

Ooh. Jane twitched her ears, getting a better angle to listen to the frazzled young woman. A busy day, an angry employer. New to her job. Pencil skirt, business shirt. Blazer, wide pockets. Spagetti-strap handbag. Not a bad place to start. Jane patted her hand against Jay's arm, and once she had his attention, pointed out the woman. Passed him fifteen dollars - three fives. "Put it in her pocket."

 

Jay quirked her a bit of a smile, and moved gracefully off the bench. Jane turned her body to have a better view. She couldn't really see what Jay did, he mostly just walked by the woman, barely brushing her shoulder. Gave the woman a smile when she noticed him. Walked away. It took less than a minute.

 

Jay circled back around the fountain the bench is in front of, parking himself next to Jane again.

 

"How was that?" she asked.

 

"Good. Felt good." Jay was smiling softly. Jane felt one tugging on her lips too. She let it.

 

They spent the midday and early afternoon there, in the park. Jane got an ice-cream for each of them. Jay slipped the cash into the pockets of maybe eight more people in two hours. He was grinning when they leave the park. Jane breathed, smiling as she let Jay feel his own happiness leech its way into his bones from her.

 

It's a good day.

**Author's Note:**

> *Jane's dad is an OC character of mine. For full details, my fic "this is a time-bomb (where's my popcorn?)" gives full details. Basically - he's a fairy, but hates the anti-magic laws, the Isle's whole existence and Beast, in that order. Jane stays with him during the holidays.
> 
> **I like to headcanon that Mal was hatched out of a dragon egg, like the Maleficent-daughter in Once Upon a Time


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